The Destiny Villainess Wants Me To Work!-Chapter 52: A Poor Worker!

Inside the dark basement—

*Ring. Ring. Ring.*

The phone’s shrill cry cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and merciless, echoing off the cold concrete walls. Each ring made Wang Cai’s heart seize.

*Hh—h—hhk...*

Heavy, broken breathing filled the room. Wang Cai was tied to a chair, his body sagging forward, trembling uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his swollen face, blurring his vision as his hollow eyes locked onto the phone lying on the table, just out of reach.

So close.

If only he could grab it. If only he could call for help.

But his wrists were bound tightly to the armrests. He couldn’t even lift his hands—hands that were slick with blood. His fingers twitched weakly, blood seeping from where several nails had been ripped out by force. The pain was no longer sharp; it was gnawing and endless, as if it had burrowed straight into his bones.

His face was barely recognisable. Bruises layered over, and his cheeks were grotesquely swollen. Blood leaked from the corner of his lips, dripping onto his chest in slow, sticky trails.

*Ring. Ring.*

Each sound drove him closer to madness.

Then—

A soft chuckle sounded.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

The moment the laughter echoed through the basement, Wang Cai’s entire body jerked violently, as though his nerves had been yanked raw. Terror flooded him in an instant. That sound was gentle and amused, but it was worse than the laughter of a demon.

"Do you want to pick it up?"

The woman’s voice was light, almost playful.

*Click. Clack. Click. Clack.*

The sound of heels striking the floor grew closer, each step measured, unhurried. To Wang Cai, it felt like a countdown to execution.

She stopped in front of him.

The woman had striking red hair and a face so beautiful it could steal his breath under any other circumstance. But to Wang Cai, she was nothing less than a nightmare in human flesh.

She picked up the phone leisurely, glancing at the screen.

"Let me see... hmm?" A faint smile curved her lips. "The note says ’rat’?"

She looked at him, feigning surprise.

"Wow. That’s not very nice. Why would you call someone a rat?"

His throat worked painfully. His voice came out hoarse, barely audible. "...w-why...?"

"Hm?" She tilted her head and leaned closer, as if straining to hear. "Did you say something?"

"Why are you doing this?" Wang Cai croaked, desperation clawing at his chest. "Do we... do we have any enmity?"

He felt wronged. Utterly aggrieved.

After negotiating with He Xiong, he had already gotten the people above to cancel his bounty. Everything had been settled. Last night, he’d even indulged himself with drinks, women, and pleasure before staying at a hotel.

Then this morning, on his way home, the news struck him like a thunderbolt.

He Xiong was dead.

He hadn’t even had time to panic, to ask someone to investigate, to bury the secrets that could destroy him—before he was kidnapped in broad daylight by the very woman standing before him now.

She had dragged him into this basement.

And from the moment they arrived, she hadn’t asked a single question.

Only beating him up.

Again.

And again.

As if venting her rage.

When that wasn’t enough, she began pulling out his fingernails. One by one, every ten minutes, as if a pause just long enough to give him hope, only to destroy it again.

No matter how hard he searched his memory, Wang Cai could not recall ever offending such a devil. He was a lustful scumbag, yes—but if he had ever crossed paths with a woman this beautiful, he would have certainly remembered her.

She gave him no reason, no explanation.

Only pain and terror.

---

The woman smiled and calmly brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"Ah—did I forget to explain?" she said lightly. "My apologies~"

Her tone was gentle, almost sweet. Wang Cai felt no comfort from it—only deeper fear. His body stiffened as he waited for her answer, dread coiling tighter with every passing second.

"Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as forgiveness." She tapped a finger against her cheek and tilted her head, acting coy. "Now then... why did I beat you?"

Before Wang Cai could even react—

Her smile vanished.

In its place was something cold and terrifying, a gaze so sharp it felt like ice pressed against his throat. The killing intent flooded the room without restraint. His breathing hitched, his heart pounding wildly as if it might burst.

"Do you really think," she said softly, "you can get away after scamming me out of my money?"

Wang Cai froze.

Seeing the confusion on his face, she continued calmly, as though explaining a simple mistake.

"Still don’t remember? Let me jog your memory." Her eyes narrowed. "The bounty. How dare you revoke it?"

His hollow eyes widened in horror as realisation struck him like a hammer.

"You... you did it?!"

"Mm. I did." She nodded casually. "But who could’ve guessed you’d cancel the bounty right after I finished the job?" A faint, mocking smile returned. "Tell me—does that sound fair to you?"

Her voice dropped, laced with bitterness and restrained rage.

"You capitalists squeeze every last drop from people like us. Taking the blood and sweat of ordinary workers without shame."

Tears streamed down Wang Cai’s face. He didn’t even know what to say. His chest felt like it was tearing apart.

"I—uuhh—if that’s all it was," he sobbed, "you could’ve told me earlier, Miss..."

I would’ve paid you.

Why torture me like this?

As if reading his thoughts, the woman slowly shook her head.

"It was never about the money."

She straightened, her expression solemn—almost righteous.

"It’s about principle. Today, you swallow my payment. Tomorrow, it’ll be someone else’s."

"If this keeps going, how do ordinary people survive?"

Her voice grew firm, resolute.

"I can’t let this kind of evil continue. Even if my hands must be stained with your filthy blood—I’ll stop it at the root."

Wang Cai stared at her blankly.

Isn’t she a killer?

Then why does she sound like a victim, like a worker fighting injustice?

At this point, fear gave way to bitterness. Since he was going to die anyway, why hold back?

"Am I evil?" he choked out. "Maybe. But aren’t you the same? How many lives have you taken?"

The woman didn’t flare up. She didn’t laugh.

She simply shook her head.

"We’re not the same," she said calmly. "Unlike you, I’ve never taken the life of an innocent."

Her tone was certain, unshaken.

As if, in her world, that single belief was enough to make everything she did... right.